The Fated Apparition of the Human Condition

To Live is to Breathe

To Love is to Live –

The Fated Apparition of the Human Condition

andrea beach 2

Perched atop the rocky shores of Enders Island near the humbling, statuesque display of the Stations of the Cross while gazing upon the tranquility of Long Island Sound, I feel far from home, but close to Christ, His creation, and the realization that I am living. I am not only existing, but I am living.

As I create poetry, song, prose, and psalm while peacefully looking over the majestic castle rock wall hugging the island in protection of an open air prayer chapel adorning the shore, a misty salt-water breeze engendered by the vast Atlantic Ocean offers the oft unearned provision of unlimited vision.

So I write in futile attempt to capture the breadth of experience and I formulate word patterns to make tangible the truth of existence.

Momentarily unassuming the salted air trims my neck and chills my spine –prayer chapel angel

A mystical motion, the ocean’s exhale – freshly organic, certain, sublime.

 

Deadlines have diminished, decayed on the crowns of ocean-weathered rocks,

While urgency, but a shadow – to the reverence of tall lighthouse docks.

 

Time lost to question, a clock to forgo,

Ticking, beating, pulsing, I care not to know.

 

There’s transparency in this moment here,

Collapsing lungs, the horizon landscape, clear.

 

Simplicity of warmth, light, motion, sound,

Vibrant complexity, an equilibrium found.

 

I wonder what remains to see past sky painted sails and endless sea,4e4376dd-8f71-458b-9d2a-8872bc2fa3b8

For here, not there, I rest in tow, if freedom lies in knowledge, continue to grow.

 

Envisioning a future, swelled on a patient past –

Shipwrecked beaches, abandoned like a grifted cast.

 

I have not made a ‘list of things’ in naught but seven days,

Oh, that litanies’ lust of loathing dust, the jealous checklist garners praise.

 

We frame and we measure every success,

And within that structure I’ve failed the test.

 

Propaedeutic studies, this is graduate school, I’m told,water and rocks

As creation manifests as art, bemusement, I behold.

 

Wanting is not living, nor is living, forgiving –

Being present invisible to space, simple gratitude is life-giving.

 

Overweening pride raptures every man,

The quest to harness beauty –

An eternal fallacy to even think we can.

 

But alas!

What this brooding vision seems to dismiss –IMG_3618

How I am being utterly confronted by the recognition of loneliness.

 

Wholeness in body within the spectacle of natural beauty –

This temporary connection to a metaphysical world brings pity.

 

Lost I remain, this cruel capitulation –

the limited apparition of our human condition.

 

The sun will rise and the sun will set, these words may dance on pages,

but here in this solemn brokenness, there’s sadness not consumed for ages.

 

I wish to return to the place I call home – the fellowship of its grace,2c553ddc-4d7e-4a53-afc8-cda2e7122e65

I wish to return to the home I know – but not the one that occupies space.

 

As humans we crave belonging, the pinnacle desire to be loved.

The earthly wants of human touch,

Augmenting the spirit we grasp above.

 

Loving is missing –

Longing.

Wanting.

Receiving.big shop 1

Loving is smiling, it’s vision, living.

 

I want to return to the protective embrace –

The warmth of the man I adore.

The one who sees me barren-faced,

The man who’s helped me soar.

 

My busy mind he quells with ease,

Laughter fuses hearts in time.

When darkness whelms, I’m on my knees,

In absence he senses I’m all but fine.

 

A forehead kiss, a wink on the nose,dad and ac beach walk 2

Eyes of adulation, my spirit he sees.

Sandy numbness, love tingles my toes,

His smile, my happiness he frees.

 

Awaiting the touch, I’m not alone

Awaiting the serenity –

Soul meets home.

 

 

 

 

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